Suggestions
by caitsith7
Summary: Harry's feelings for Oliver could be something he can't control. Will he tell the Keeper? *UPDATED*
1. Chapter 1: Nothing's Wrong

Legal Stuff: Basically I own nothing that has to do with Harry Potter, because it all belongs to J.K Rowling. Anything to do with Harry Potter does no belong to me, including characters and places.

Note: I've realised there are rare Oliver & Harry pairings, which is a shame, since it's such a great pairing! I just hope people with stick with this until the end. The Title is called "Suggestion" because it's "the name given to the psychological process by which one person may guide the thoughts, feelings or behavior of another," according to Wikipedia . Also, since this is my first post, I thought I'd copy all those T.V shows and post two chapters! Also, I won't continue to post unless I get at least 5-6 reviews.

"Suggestions"

Chapter One: 'Nothing's Wrong'

Dinner was never quiet in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Since the moment he'd first arrived, he heard students talking excitedly with one another, sharing recent gossip about who was with who, how strenuously complex the potion Professor Snape had told them to make the previous lesson, laughter at how someone got into trouble with McGonagall for setting their matchbox on fire or, what speed the next broom would break. There were a few odd conversations, which would often include Fred and George Weasly, who'd talk about Zonko products and breaking the rules, which would sometimes include using these Zonko products. On this occasion, Harry could not hear a single conversation, his thoughts were elsewhere – on Oliver Wood who was seated a few seats opposite him, talking to Alicia Spinnet about a new technique he would implement in their next practice session.

Harry felt something familiar rising in his chest. There was always a strange beating, whenever he saw Oliver, there was a warm pounding in his chest. He was sure _what_ it was, but he wasn't sure whether he should talk with Oliver about it. He'd never tell the Keeper how he felt about him, even after long heartaching years, he still couldn't do it. He didn't want to lose someone that meant so much to him.

"Yeah, well so I had to swallow this horrible stuff that tasted like mum's stew," Ron said through mouthfuls of chicken and bread at Fred and George. "How's something that taste like rotten eggs be better for me?" Lee Jordan gave him a pat of sympathy.

"More mashed potatoes Harry?" Hermione asked, handing him the plate. Harry either didn't hear her, or ignored her, his eyes remained transfixed on Wood, his fork robotically twirling the peas and sausages on his plate.

"Oh, I see," Hermione smiled.

"See what?" Harry hissed, turning.

Hermione smirked calmly at Harry's immediate defensive response, setting the plate of mashed potatoes down next to Neville Longbottom, who was looking miserable since their double potions class. "I saw the way you looked at him, oh, come on, Harry, why don't you say something to him?"

"What? I can't do that!" He replied.

"When are you planning to tell him? Er…you are going to right?" Hermione continued, taking a bread roll from a pile near Seamus Finnegan, smearing it with some butter.

"Well I- …I can't talk about this right now," Harry mumbled, growing hot. He looked at his plate. He tried in vain to be enthusiastic with his mushed peas and broken bits of sausage.

"How about we discuss this later in the common room?" Hermione suggested in a sympathetic tone whilst handing him a plate of Yorkshire Pudding, which Harry politely rejected.

Harry was about to reply, when Ron suddenly turned to face them. "What? I heard something about you and Harry discussing something in the common room later," He spat bits of chicken all over Hermione's plate and robes. Hermione drew back in disgust, and so did several girls near the table.

"Ron, you are the most disgusting… git I've ever had the misfortune to meet," Hermione cried, pushing the plate from her. "Harry and I were just discussing…about how he…" She gave Harry a nervous look, then turned back to Ron "How he got a…umm… six in that 'Aging Potions, and Their Inappropriate Uses' assignment for Snape,"

Ron shrugged, still chewing, looking like he'd expected Hermione to have said something like that. "Well, at least he got better than Neville…what he'd get again? Three? What are you three looking so smug about?" Ron had turned back to Fred, George and Lee Jordan who looked as though 'inspiration' had juts hit them.

"Aging potions, great idea Hermione," Lee said happily.

"Yeah, couldn't have thought of a better thing myself," George nodded, rubbing his hands together excitedly.

"A better what?" Ron asked, turning from Harry and Hermione, giving Fred a raised eyebrow, his mouth still stuffed with chicken, saw bits off it land in front of him. Parvati Patil gave him a look and edged further from him, as did Lavender Brown.

"Sorry Harry," said Hermione sheepishly, " I didn't mean to say that you got six in Snape's essay, I just said it to make Ron shut up," She erratically leaned forward, reaching for the plate of roast ham.

Harry smiled. "Hermione, I did get six though," He found himself taking some ham onto his plate when Hermione hovered the platter in front of him.

Hermione giggled, but before she could say something that would sound like 'a six is nothing to be ashamed of…it's a start Harry, everyone's got to start somewhere…' Neville looked up, and fortunately interrupted her. "Were you talking about Snape's Aging Essay? That was a killer,"

Neville continued to play with his food, with his sharp metal fork. "I had no idea you needed rose petals in that potion at all," he sighed, setting his chin onto his hands, looking utterly dejected. "Gran's going to kill me if she sees I've almost failed Potions again. She keeps telling me how great mom was at it…"

Hermione stared at him from the moment his said 'Aging Potion,' and pointed out a rather important fact, which Harry thought Neville had missed. "Neville, that's Amortentia you're talking about that needs rose petals,"

Neville looked up, his face flushed.

"Oh, Neville…you must have been looking at the wrong page. They _are_ right next to each other…so…um…well… anyone could have made that mistake…" Hermione continued, making the last bit sounding rather forced. 

Neville's face grew hotter.

"Oh. What's that again?"

"What?" Hermione replied genially.

"Amor-…oh, whatever that thing was…" Neville replied, suddenly taking great interest in the sausages on the pile in front of him.

"Amortentia's a love potion remember? Snape mentioned it last week when he was going over the properties of valerian roots,"

"Oh, yeah…right…yeah, I remember," Neville replied, sounding thoroughly lost.

Harry turned back to look at Wood again, who was now demonstrating to Fred and George, and a smirking Lee Jordan, whereabouts on their bat they should hit the Bludgers to get 'maximum power,' and a more precise direction. In the dramatics, Oliver's hand knocked over Ron's goblet, which had been too close to his sleeve, the contents spilling onto the table and splashing Harry's robes, which surprisingly went largely unnoticed by Harry.

"Oh, sorry, Harry," Oliver muttered, quickly, reaching for his wand. He mumbled _Evanesco_ and the goblet's contents, vanished, leaving nothing but a few small stains on Harry's robes. Wood then returned to show Fred what angle he was supposed to hit a Bludger if he was riding on a Cleansweep and tilting to the right.

Harry caught Hermione's eye and stopped looking at the Keeper, in case Hermione would continue her interrogation of him again. He turned to Neville, who was now asking Hermione the exact incantation of the Impedimenta Jinx, which to his great displeasure, had found that he'd been reciting the pronunciation of the charm far too 'sharp' for Hermione's taste.

"No, Neville, you keep saying it's Imped_a_menta, when's it _Impedimenta_. And it's one word, not bits of words stuck together…"

Harry gave a slight smirk, as he stared at his plate again. He had a guilt trodden longing to give Wood some Amortentia during breakfast when he wasn't looking or whenever he was too preoccupied with telling the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team about how moving a bit left during a sharp turn on a broom, would give the rider more momentum. As he continued to smush his peas even more, with his fork, Harry knew he didn't want Oliver like that, Amortentia was something he would never want to use on the Keeper, no matter how desperate he was. Besides, he'd probably kill him, or send him to the Hospital Wing with _his_ potions skills. Harry grinned at the thought as he opened his mouth to take a bite from the sausage, or what had looked like sausage a few minutes ago.

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Well hope you guys liked that Chapter!


	2. Chapter 2: Colin and Common Room Rows

Legal Stuff:

Read the legal stuff in Chapter One, just says I don't own Harry Potter in a nutshell.

"Suggestions"

Chapter Two: "Colin and Common Room Rows"

"Password?" the Fat Lady croaked in a bored, tired voice as Harry and a rather fidgety Hermione neared the portrait.

If it wasn't for the fact that a stern Professor McGonagall had reminded Hermione that they should be in bed, Hermione would still have been hounding Professor Flitwick in the Staff Common Room. Harry had no idea why he had agreed to join Hermione as she apologised to Flitwick about not mentioning Lowering Charms in her response in their previous class, when Flitwick had asked her what the incantation "_Wingardium Leviosa_," did.

"How could I forget to mention the counter charms?" Hermione whined, looking irritated. "I so glad that we caught Flitwick in time…"

She stopped when she caught the Fat Lady giving her a raised eyebrow and a frown. "Oh…_Blancmange_," Hermione said briskly, before the portrait swung open, and she climbed through the hole with Harry.

"Maybe I've should have said something about Floating Charms, can't believe I forgot…" Hermione continued in a fretful tone, which was starting to seem rather irksome to Harry.

Hermione remembered what time it was and stopped her talking as she glared around the Common Room. It was almost empty with the exception of Collin Creevy, who was thoroughly asleep, but had his head against one of the tables, with rolls of parchment both beside him, and on the floor. His quill was also on the floor, as were tattered bits of new parchment, which evidently had been ripped and clawed to bits by Crookshanks during Colin's nap. "Kneazles, and their hazards," said the title of a large shredded bit of parchment. Crookshanks obviously hadn't been amused by Hagrid's recent choice of Care of Magical Creatures topic, but Harry found that it was rather tame of Hagrid to let his classes view something besides Blasted Ended Skrewts or Firecrabs. Colin gave a loud snort, and rolled his head, crushing several parchments, then giving another loud snort, he returned to his sleep unaware that his footlong essay on The Giant's Garlands Wars between the Mountain and Hill Giants, which was for Professor Binns the following morning, now had a large ugly crease across it.

"Harry," Hermione whispered, from across the room on one of the large lounge chairs. Quite unsurprising to Harry was the nervous undertone in her voice.

"Yeah?"

"Umm…er…how are you going with…umm," Hermione stole a glance at Colin Creevy, who was now snoring quietly. "How's…Professor Binn's essay on 'The Renewal of Gringotts Bank, and it's impact on the Wizarding World' going?" Hermione gave him a nervous look.

"Er…great, I just need to make it a bit longer I suppose…" Harry replied, bemused.

"Well…that's great," Hermione continued. "So…I hear, that…oh for goodness sakes!" Hermione snapped. "When will you start telling Wood how you feel?"

Harry's stomach gave a lurch. He'd been half expecting and half avoiding this conversation with Hermione.

"Hermione, I can't," he muttered.

"Why, Harry?" Hermione asked, folding her arms "You know hiding it isn't right,"

" I don't…I don't want to lose him…" Harry heard himself mutter feebly, glaring at his feet.

"But Harry…"

"Look, you don't know what it's like Hermione. I've…I've had feelings for Oliver since I'd first met him. I…still do, but I can't control them anymore," Harry lowered his voice, looking blankly at a particular painting of a few women circling a large tree. "I can't lose him…even if he doesn't know, I don't want him to hate me,"

"Harry…" Hermione continued in a gentle voice, placing a hand on his shoulder. "How long are you going to wait?"

"Wait for what?" came a rather loud voice from behind them. The pair turned to see who was it that made the outburst, expecting it to be a loud voiced Seamus Finnegan, only to find Ron Weasly, still in Percy's old crumpled pyjamas, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Er…" Hermione started. Harry suddenly couldn't speak, his Adam's apple stuck in his throat, wondering whether Ron had heard what he'd said to Hermione. He stared at the ground in front of Hermione's feet, which gave her an indication to quickly make up a lame excuse "Wait to get his…Fireball back,"

Ron raised an eyebrow, he no longer seemed tired, rather alert whenever something that involved Quidditch was talked about. "It's 'Firebolt' Hermione, not 'Fireball'. Besides since when did you start talking about Quidditch, I thought you didn't get any of it,"

"I do so!" Hermione retorted, biting the bottom of her lip, looking desperately at Harry for help. "Umm…that…ummm…Viktor Krum…that Beater is good,"

"Viktor Krum's a Seeker Hermione, and you probably only like him because he's a 'pretty boy'," Ron replied giving her a look.

"What?! That's not…I never like someone based on their looks!" Hermione retorted heatedly.

Ron coughed, which strangely sounded like "Lockhart?"

"Oh Ron, don't be so naïve. He was a professor for goodness sakes," Hermione replied, folding her arms across her chest and turning a bright red.

"Oh, and who's the one that got all those questions from him right, and got him to sign that note for us?" Ron continued reproachfully.

"That's common knowledge!" Hermione shrieked.

"Yeah, sure, we all know his favourite colour's _lilac_," Ron replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Well, your mom knows as well! She was the one who told me his favourite getaway vacation was the Black Forest, which was also where he met the Hags in _Holiday with Hags_," Hermione spat back.

"Oh, come on, mom obviously fancies him as well," Ron glowered.

"What? How-"

Hermione was fortunately interrupted by a rather loud yawn, which came from across the room. Colin Creevy rubbed his eyes fuzzily, then turned to see Hermione and Ron, both scowling.

"What?" Colin spluttered, frightened as he looked from Ron to Hermione.

"Nothing Colin," Harry said patiently. "Er…is that your homework?". Harry looked at the creased, crumpled and furrowed parchments besides Colin.

"Oh no! I can't believe this! I can't believe I fell asleep!" Colin cried in agony. "Professor Binns is going to kill me," He frenetically gathered his things, "Thanks Harry, I better scoot to bed and get these done, I need help from Penderwa Pigma, I hope he's not sleeping yet…well good night Harry,"

Harry gave Colin a similar 'goodnight' and watched him wander off, holding his things heading towards his dormitory, muttering "Professor Binns is going to kill me…wait, how _can_ he kill me? He's a ghost! Oh, but he can still out detentions…aww,"

"Well, I better go to bed as well, we've got Trelwany first thing tomorrow…coming Ron?"

Hermione's mouth had been ajar when Harry said that, almost as though she was about to relight her bickering with Ron before Colin had interjected. She lowered her finger when she saw Harry look at her, and breathed in, reluctantly locking her lips together, giving him an embarrassed look.

Ron looked as though he was about to gloat, until he saw Harry glowering at him. "Yeah…it is late…"

"Well, good night Hermione," Harry said tiredly. He turned, heading for the stone stairs, which would lead to his beloved four-poster bed. He heard Ron mumble a weak goodnight to Hermione, then follow him rather excitedly.

"So…when _are_ you going to get the Firebolt back?" asked Ron enthusiastically with a grin once he noticed Hermione was out of earshot. "Damn Snape, I can't believe he got it confiscated just because you rammed into Notts last game…I mean come on, it was _his_ fault he went for Katie like that…a complete cheat if I ever saw one, still can't believe Snape got your Fireball confiscated for that!"

Harry was slightly glad that Ron hadn't heard what he and Hermione were talking about. He didn't know what he'd do, having to explain to both Ron _and_ Hermione, though he wouldn't bother even explaining to Ron, as according to Hermione, he was the "most insensitive wart" she'd "ever had the misfortune of meeting" - emotional problems just wasn't his thing, and he wasn't sure Ron would be as understanding as Hermione, and didn't want to spend his days in solitude or worse – stuck in the library with the obessive Madam Pince and Hermione.

Harry's mind then returned to Oliver Wood as he changed into his pyjamas. He was always constantly having his problem, he'd think of the Keeper more and more often, and whenever he tried to force the thoughts out of his head, he either thought more about him, or was told off by Professor Flitwick for raising his voice in the corridors.

Feeling his heart pounding in his chest, Harry rolled over in his bed, listening to Ron whimper about 'so many legs,' and Neville Longbottom snoring loudly.

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Well, I hope you guys liked that one! And please REVIEW, I refuse to post unless I get at least 5 or 6. Next Chapter: "Insomnia"


	3. Chapter 3: Hermione Gets It Right

Disclaimer: Obviously I own nothing to do with Harry Potter, that belongs to JK Rowling.

Thanks for the reviews guys, I take everything on board. I'm glad you guys liked it.

Chapter Three: Hermione Gets it Right

Hermione had found his secret about Oliver after a Transfiguration lesson a few short months ago. McGonagall had to continue to scold Harry for looking out the window at the Quidditch Pitch and not concentrating on the lesson, and would shoot him glares and ask him specific questions, which he couldn't answer even if he had been listening. Harry would never tell her that he'd sometimes hoped to see Wood gliding in between the posts on his broom.

Once the lesson had ended, McGonagall had asked him to remain behind to ask what was troubling him, allowing him freedom from missing out on hearing another of his premature death in Divinations, which Harry felt, would disappoint Professor Trelawney greatly.

"Nothing Professor,"

"Potter, that was a lesson on changing various species of rats into matchboxes. I could hardly believe that any sane student would find that uninteresting, yet for these past few lessons, all you ever do is stare out the window at the Quidditch Pitch. Even Neville Longbottom found it exciting. I am sure that something must be upsetting you" She snapped her smart lock bag shut, expecting an answer.

"No, there' isn't something at all," He lied.

"Are you sure Potter?"

"Yes Professor,"

McGonagall looked unconvinced, but allowed him to leave to join his class. "Ah, one more thing Potter, although Quidditch is a rather enjoyable and competitive game, I suggest you take as much interest in it as you do in your schoolwork, though I will take the blame for being the one who introduced you to it all," She gave him a small smile, "Oh, and if you do find trouble, I suggest you consult Miss Granger, she may seem more… understanding than me,"

Grinning, Harry left the Transfiguration classroom, and walked straight into Hermione who was red in the face and looking extremely tense.

"Oh…ummm…hi Harry,"

"Hermione what are you still doing here?" He asked.

"I…umm…wanted to ask McGonagall about Switching Spells," Hermione said fretfully, her voice wavering.



"I thought you'd finished with that though," Harry replied suspiciously.

"Oh…well…so, what do you have?" Hermione asked quickly. Harry could have sworn it was to get out of getting into a worse situation.

"Divinations," Harry replied, lowering his eyebrows. Something wasn't right.

"That's great…I have Arithmancy, that's along the way to Divinations…how about we walk together?" Hermione suggested, failing to look casual.

Harry agreed reluctantly and it wasn't too long before he found out why Hermione had suggested it.

"So…that was an interesting Transfiguration lesson…McGonagall's a really fantastic teacher…so, was there…umm…anything interesting out the window?" Hermione said, flustered.

"Hermione…" Harry started.

"Well, we all have problems at some stage of our lives hey?" She continued.

"Hermione…"

"But there's always someone to turn to when that time comes… not that I'm suggesting anything," Hermione mumbled, looking at him.

"Hermione, if you want to know what's bugging me, then just ask," Harry replied gloomily.

"I never said… well…if you want to… you can," Hermione smiled.

"Well, I can't…it's…complicated…" Harry replied weakly. "There's some things I can't understand,"

"Oh come on Harry, I'm sure I can-" Hermione started.

"Sorry Hermione, but I can't-"

Harry hadn't been watching where he was walking, and he collided into someone holding a pile of books when he turned the corner of the Charms corridor. He turned to apologise, then noticed that it was one the person he'd just been thinking about. His heart felt weightless, and a strange warmth filled his chest. He couldn't stop a goofy grin tugging at his jaw.

"Oh…Oliver…I…uh…sorry," were the words Harry found himself saying. He lowered himself, helping Wood pick up the books that now littered the hall, avoiding having to meet Oliver's eyes.



"Thanks Harry," Wood mumbled in reply. His hand brushed against Harry when Harry handed him "Advanced Charms". Harry couldn't describe the feeling he had on the contact with Oliver.

"No harm done," Wood beamed. Harry grew hot. "Well, I've got to go before Flitwick starts complaining. We've got practice tomorrow at 6:00, yeah, I know it's a few months before our game with Hufflepuff, and I know hail is predicted tomorrow, but a little practice never hurts eh?"

"Cool, I'll be there," Harry gave him a grin as the Keeper hurried down the hall. He turned back to Hermione to tell her goodbye before continuing to Divinations, but found her gaping at him.

"What?" Harry asked, bemused.

"Oh, god…it was so obvious…" Hermione cried.

"What was obvious?" Harry asked, feeling his cheeks going hot again.

"Oh come on Harry, it's so obvious what's bugging you," Hermione continued. "It's Oliver isn't it?" She was using that same tone she had been using whenever she explained a complex textbook message to him.

"What?" Harry retorted, his voice wavering. "Yeah…sure he does make us train a bit too hard but…" He looked at Hermione, but he could tell she wasn't thinking about Quidditch at all.

"Please," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes. "You like him don't you Harry?" She smiled smugly.

"What?" Harry knew his voice was failing. He wished his face would stop getting hotter.

"It's so obvious…_that's_ why you look at the Quidditch Pitch and the goals all the time-"

"That's crazy Hermione-"

"Oh come on Harry, you just so happen to be gloomy and depressed, then Wood comes along, and you start smiling and laughing again?"

"That's-"

"And did I forget to mention how you couldn't keep your eyes off him? And how you intentionally brushed your hand against his? And how you kept avoiding looking him in the eye?" Hermione said omnisciently. She gave Harry a smile as though she commended his excuses.

Harry knew better than to continue with his lame excuses, especially against the one student who had figured out that Lupin had been a werewolf in a few short months.



"Yeah…well…he's got a nice ass," Harry said with a sheepish grin.

Hermione laughed. "Oh Harry, you should have told me earlier," She beamed at him, then looked at her books. "Oh no, Professor Vector is going to begin Eastings this lesson, I can't miss that!" She looked at Harry again, and muttered a quick apology, then turned to leave. Harry was about to open his mouth to tell her something, but Hermione cut him short. "- and yes, I won't tell anyone Harry," She cried, running through the Hall.

With a smile, Harry headed to the ladder that would lead to Divinations. Even if Trelawny predicted that he would die a gruesome premature grisly death that involved 'The Grim', the grin on his face wouldn't fade.

Harry sighed and rolled around in his sleep. He couldn't sleep. Even without Neville Longbottom snoring.

Well, hope you guys liked that Chapter, yeah, sorry it's a bit short…once again, I'll post the next chapter when I receive 5 or more reviews.


	4. Chapter 4: Sleep Talk

PLEASE READ: I changed some of this chapter, especially the ending so please ignore previous versions of this chapter. THIS IS IMPORTANT.

Disclaimer: Anything I have used associated with Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling.

Author Note: I had given up on this, but thanks to the reviews, I started again. Hope you like this Chapter! I also like theories!

Suggestions

Chapter Four: "Sleep Talk"

Harry couldn't sleep. He wasn't sure whether because it was due to Oliver or to something else, but all the same, he couldn't shut his eyes and lie still in the dark. He'd never got enough sleep living with The Dursley - either Dudley would wake him with his pounding steps as he waddled down the stairs, making every step creak whilst yelling that he wanted bacon with eggs for the morning, or it would be Aunt Petunia, who would relentlessly knocked on his door for him to begin his morning chores and would give her the chance to stickybeak his room to see if he'd snuck food from the fridge. Yet, here he was, awake, listening to Neville Longbottom snoring and Ron Weasley yelp in his sleep about 'so many legs'.

Reaching for his glasses besides his bedside, he put them on, then gingerly got up, making sure to make as little noise as possible. Ron was in the bunk above him, though he'd ceased his mumblings, he began snoring quite loudly, rolling over in his sleep a few times, and, to Harry's disgust also started drooling on his pillow. He was thankful, however, that no-one had woken when he found Mrs Weasley's knitted woollen sweater and warm cotton pants amongst the litter of clothes carelessly strewn across the room which he promptly dressed himself whilst shoot looks at the three goals on Quidditch Pitch, which was visible from his window, the moonlight gleaming on the goal's metallic shape. He stopped when he heard a loud cry, turning only to find that it was Neville who had emitted the outburst – clawing his sheets with his eyes shuts moaning "No! Uncle Algie!" Harry then unearthed his Invisibility Cloak, which was wedged between his trunks-underneath his bed. He gave one last look at Ron, whose pillow was now saturated with saliva, then headed out.

Making his way through the now deserted common room, Harry noticed that Colin Creevy had forgotten his quill as well a few scraps of parchment, which were still on the floor – scattered all over. The fire had burned out and the room was dim in the darkness, with only the gentle moonlight as the sole source of illumination. Someone had knocked over a bottle of ink, which was smeared all over the table and made a mess on the carpet – this would give the house elves some bliss. He hurried to the portrait hole then climbed through.

Luckily, the Fat Lady was still asleep, so she couldn't raise her voice when Harry climbed from the portrait hole and into the corridors. It was somewhat hard to see in the blackness as he hurried on – which meant he couldn't see the mess Peeves had made earlier when he'd been throwing tomatoes at the first years. Harry slipped, and fell, and elicited a loud curse. Remembering where he was, he clenched his mouth shut. 'Damn! Mrs. Norris will be here any moment,'

The Fat Lady, having been woken, looked as though she was going to give the person who had woken her a good telling off, and would lock them out for the rest of the night. She was just about to raise her voice to shout at the delinquent when she realised that there wasn't anyone there, and with a disgruntled look and a few mumbles, returned to sleep. Harry gave a final look at the Fat Lady, and with a dismal thought, he wondered how he was ever going to get back in.

He rose, and continued heading through the corridor with the Invisibility Cloak draped over him. He stopped at the staircase, pulled out what seemed like a spare bit of old parchment, then tapped it with his wand, whispering, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," The parchment illuminated with brilliant ink and Harry muttered a gentle incantation - _Lumos_ and his wand burst with a small beam of light. He glared at the parchment, scrutinizing the map meticulously – good, Filch was hounding Peeves on the third floor corridor whilst the poltergeist scuttled in and out of classrooms. Snape was alone in his office, which confirmed to Harry that one of the reasons why Snape was so grouchy was because he lacked sleep. He scanned the remainder of the map hastily then tapped it again, mumbled quietly and both the parchment lost its brilliant ink as the wand lost it small light. It looked like he'd have to take the long route around the castle.

He hurried down the flights of ever moving staircases, which to Harry's surprise, were also still in operation, and which, to the paintings besides the stairs's dismay, caused such a racket that sleep for them was disruptive and almost impossible. Harry stole a glance at his map, and with a tap realised he'd have to pass the third floor and continued through the corridor. He ducked as Peeves sailed past, writing rude comments on the wall. He checked his map for the third time to ensure that Filch wasn't nearby, or heading towards his direction. With that, he slunk past the Great Hall and emerged onto the castle grounds.

When he came to the Quidditch Pitch, Harry carefully removed his Invisibility Cloak. He was sure that he was far enough from sight from Filch to see him. He folded the cloak. Looking up, towards the goals, Harry heard Lee Jordan's voice boom on the loudspeaker.



"And Bell is being…WHY YOU CHEAP SON OF A – sorry professor… ahem, Bell is down, Flint has control of the ball, he pushes Spinnet aside, and NO! Weasley just misses with a close Bludger. Flint shoots…WHAT A SAVE! That's why Oliver Wood is captain of Gryffindor folks! Amazing! Did you see that save professor?"

Harry smirked. How could he forget that game? He sighed, feeling the usual warmth creeping into his chest whenever he thought of the Keeper. What was wrong with him? He felt a sudden pang of pain. He was never going to – Wood would never…so why couldn't he just stop these feelings he was having? "Damn it!" He cried, kicking the dirt in frustration.

"Harry?" Came a familiar, startled voice behind him.

Then came the recognizable feelings again. How he'd love that voice.

"Potter, what are you doing up so late?" He heard Wood ask.

"I... couldn't sleep," Harry responded clearing his throat. He looked at the Keeper, his chest tightening.

"That makes sense – a lot of people who can't sleep talk walks through the Quidditch Pitches in pitch black,"

"Well, then what are you doing here Wood?" Harry asked.

"I...err...you see...well alright," The Keeper gave him a sheepish look. "I was just checking the grounds for the match we have against Hufflepuff later next month. You see Harry -" He looked at the seeker with enthusiasm, sounding like his usual Keeper self. "If we can train in pitch black, then we can beat Hufflepuff, even with their new Beaters, you know – Baxter and Davis?"

Harry took a nervous step back, and gave the Keeper a look of disbelief. Pitch Black? Honestly, what was he going to have to do next? Catch the Snitch with his hands tied behind his back? Sure he still had strong feelings for Oliver, but this was just taking it too far. He looked back at the keeper, wanting to tell argue and was just about to open his mouth to give a response, when to his bewilderment, he saw the Keeper laughing gently.

"Joke, Harry. You didn't think I was serious did you?" He smiled.

"Uh..." Harry began. He felt his cheeks flush and looked from Oliver to the ground.

Harry looked at Wood, his heart beating faster. No. He had to suppress the feelings. "So, what are you doing here Wood?"

"Well, I couldn't sleep either…I've been tossing and turning all week about this match," Oliver said briskly, he stared at the night. "Nice night though…the stars are out,"

"Yeah…" Harry muttered in response, looking where Wood was. It was amazing, he'd never been interested in looking at the stars, but now he was glaring intently at one particular bright one, but one eye was still giving a few sneaky glances back at Wood.

"Can't say I understand much of them. I'm not a big fan of Divinations, never took the actual subject," Oliver continued, turning from the night to Harry.

"You aren't missing out on a whole lot," Harry replied.

"Yeah?"

"Well, all you have to do in the subject is to predict how gruesome and horrible your own death is and Trelawney will let you pass," Harry laughed.

Wood laughed beside him. "Well does getting repeatedly beaten by Bludgers, then colliding into a Chaser before you hit the ground, smashing your skull, give me a pass?"

"Probably," Harry grinned.

"Well I just hope Divinations isn't all about misery, that would mean that it could rain tomorrow, which…isn't that bad actually, we need to train in different conditions," Oliver beamed, staring back at the night.

Harry turned his eyes on Oliver, then felt something hard and solid ram against the back of his head, causing intense pain and a numbness, causing his vision to become blurry. He felt the blood rushing, then heard Wood giving a loud curse, moving closer to him before all turned black.

"Wood…?"

"Yeah Harry?"

"I…"

Harry never got to finish his sentence. He felt something hard ram against his head, then Wood giving a loud curse, before all turned black.

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IMPORTANT: Once again, THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN CHANGED, IGNORE PREVIOUS VERSIONS. I'm sorry to post the version before, but that one doesn't tie in with my original story. Please feel free to review.


	5. Chapter 5: Ease Fix

IMPORTANT – MUST READ: PLEASE READ THE END OF CHAPTER FOUR. I HAVE CHANGED PARTS OF THE CHAPTER SO PLEASE VIEW THE UPDATED CHAPTER BEFORE READING THIS ONE.

Disclaimer: Read Disclaimer on Chapter One. Same thing applies.

Author Note: I apologise for posting the wrong chapter last time. It didn't fit with my original story. Thanks for the reviews and comments, and just simply reading it. Also, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE read my other Oliver Wood story, which I started during this Chapter. Oliver wakes one morning after a big Quidditch Match, that he is back over thousands of years ago – somewhere in Ancient Thrace. There he meets...I won't got into any more spoilers – let's just say I really like what's going to happen. Check it out – author search, and click on "A Friend in Need,"

Suggestions

Chapter Five: Ease - Fix

Harry woke to see faint lights, and the signs of the Hospital Wing. Wood, or someone who resembled him, was standing over him, with what he hoped, was a concerned look. "Awake, Potter?"

Harry felt his arms numb at his side, his vision was slightly fuzzy, but he managed to raise himself slightly, moving his hand to the beside table, reaching for his glasses. "What happened?" He heard himself mutter - his vision clearing when he slipped on his spectacles.

"It was my fault," Oliver replied with a sheepish look. "Err…remember when I said I was planning our next training session back on the Quidditch Pitch? Well…I forgot to put the Bludger I let out back in…when I saw you,"

Harry gave a feeble grin.

"Yeah well, McGonagall sorta caught me. She wasn't too happy. She'd thought I'd dragged you out of bed to practice,"

If he didn't feel so weak, he'd start laughing. He could imagine Wood's conversation with McGonagall, about his obsession with winning the House Cup and his lack of concern of what injuries his team received to get it.

"Well, I told her that I wouldn't do something like that, she was going to keep shouting at me, and was threatening to take points from Gryffindor, but I made her see that I was holding you, so she let me go, she wasn't too happy. I tell 

you what Harry, she looks just as fierce in her sleeping gown as she does in Transfiguration,"

Harry grinned weakly, he felt an aching in his chest, which he somehow interpreted as a longing to have been awake when Oliver's arms had been around him, holding him as he carried him up here. He looked at the Keeper, and mumbled, "Is practice still on?"

Wood gave a startled look. "What? On no…I told you Harry, I'm not very good with Divinations," He grinned. It was at this moment that Harry both heard and noticed the pelting of the window by the thick rain and sleet. He was surprised he hadn't realised something so obvious sooner, but immediately knew why this was so when his eyes turned back to Wood.

"Er…I thought you said it was better to practice in 'different conditions'," Harry mumbled with a smile.

"Yeah, but we're a Seeker short, and Katie's sick," When his eyes came to Harry, he stopped his rambling.

"Well, you should get some rest," he sighed. The Keeper lowered himself onto the chair besides Harry's bed, looking, Harry hoped, slightly relieved.

"Thanks," He'd wanted to sound confident, but a weak, faint sound was what came out. He put his head back against the pillow.

Oliver sat there placid, he thought for a moment, then looking at Harry with a smile. "You were saying my name in your sleep Harry,"

Harry froze. 'No, no, no no. Wood had heard him talking in his sleep about him? Goddammit, shit, shit shit shit. Did he know about the feelings Harry had for him?

Wood stared at him. "Oh…," With a face of realization, "Was I whatever that made you couldn't sleep last night?" Wood grinned. "Gee…I must train you guys too hard,"

Harry felt his heart slow gradually, he didn't know what he would have done if Wood found out how his true feelings for him. What Oliver had said about him being the reason that Harry couldn't sleep stuck in Harry's head. He had been joking, but Harry knew that Oliver _was_ the actual reason for why he was up wandering last night. He kept thinking too much about The Keeper.

He felt glum when Wood bade him to have a long rest and a goodbye along with a smile when he took his leave as Madam Pomfrey poured horrible orange medicine into a flask which she had told Harry, to his horror, that he must 

swallow all of it, and would have another dose three hours later. "Well of course it's disgusting, but you're quite old enough to cope. You do want to stope these headaches don't you?"

Harry just couldn't get the taste from his mouth, which currently smelled as though he'd been eating an apple which had been glazed in extra strong mint that had been left in the sun for a week. He wasn't looking forward to his dose in a few hours, and was almost resorting to jinxing his breath – which had been suffocating him, but immediately forgot about it when Hermione and Ron both burst into the Hospital Wing.

"We heard what happened Harry," Hermione said calmly, at his side.

"Yeah. What _were _you doing up walking around the castle so late?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow.

Harry racked his brain for a response besides the one that first came into his head about Oliver. "Er…couldn't sleep,"

"Oh yeah?" Ron continued, screwing his face, "Once, when Fred at George were ten, Mom and Dad caught them eating in the kitchen in the middle of the night. Mom was raging mad, but George said he and Fred had been sleepwalking, so Mom couldn't punish them. Dad just stood there and told them to drink some milk before going to bed if they couldn't sleep. Mom didn't like it that Dad helped them out instead of telling them off, but I swear Fred had crumbs from those jam donuts Mom hid from them all over his shirt,"

"And what's that got to do with Harry?" Hermione asked impatiently.

"That he should drink milk if he doesn't want to wander around the school at night," Ron lowered his eyebrows, crossing his arms defensively.

"Oh for goodness sakes Ron, Harry wasn't even sleepwalking, and that's just a lame excuse Fred and George made up to get out of trouble," Hermione continued.

"Yeah, but…" Ron opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again, looking irritated, finding that he couldn't find something wrong with what had Hermione said. "Well I'll just get Harry his things then,"

Ron gave his most sulking look (mostly at Hermione) as he dug drew some packets from the pocket of his robes, pulling out a few Chocolate Frogs – most squashed. He also managed to deposit a surprising pristine bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans onto the bedside table, besides the squashed frogs. "Sorry Harry, I forgot I had them in my pockets,"



Ron's ears turned red. Harry, not wanting to look ungrateful, gave him a forced grin. "Well…thanks, Ron…Hermione," He looked at the mashed Chocolate Frogs. "Umm…I'm sure Madame Pomfrey wouldn't let me eat chocolate after this injury…help yourself Ron,"

Ron looked pleased, but hesitated when he got a glare from Hermione. He reached for a few frogs and beans, then hurried over to the opposite side of the room, sitting on one of the vacant beds and crossing his fingers that he had Ptolemy in one of the four packets.

Hermione continued to glare at Ron, reminding Harry for a moment of Professor McGonagall, before she turned back to him. "It was Wood wasn't it?"

It sometimes disturbed Harry that Hermione knew so much. He nodded reluctantly, he looked to see if Ron could hear, but found his friend, talking with Terry Boot, a Hufflepuff boy in the same year as them, who was in the bed next to the previously vacant one, asking him whether Morgana and Circe was a good trade for Louis IV and how many cards his newly acquired, chocolate smeared Grindelwald, which he had found after his fourth Chocolate Frog, was worth.

"This is unhealthy Harry, wandering around at night, you could have been caught," Hermione rambled, giving him a stern look. "...by Filch,"

"I told you Hermione, I couldn't sleep," Harry replied, irritated. He fidgeted uncomfortably around in his bed.

"So you decide to head to the Quidditch Pitch at one in the morning?" Hermione asked giving him such a look and folding her arms. "Come on, you and I both know why you were up,"

Harry didn't want to say it. He knew that Hermione was right, but he wouldn't admit it.

"You need to tell him how you feel Harry,"

"Hermione-"

"Otherwise, you'll keep going on like this, distracted all the time," Hermione said with a sympathetic look. "I heard Wood was the one that carried you up here,"

"Yeah…I bumped into him planning for the next match last night on the field," Harry grinned. "Wait. You HEARD? What do you mean you heard?"



"Don't worry Harry, it's not like the whole school knows, I heard from McGonagall," She stopped. "...You didn't just pretend to faint so he could hold you, did you?" Hermione asked with the same suspicious look she had given to Hagrid when the gamekeeper had been lying about illegal dragon eggs.

"What? No! Of course not!" Harry cried, getting rather hot.

"McGonagall told me she thought Oliver had dragged you out of bed so he could get some practice in," Hermione continued.

This time, Harry laughed.

"Coming to think about it, you've missed out on a very important Transfiguration Lesson this morning. We started work on Automatons, remember when McGonagall bewitched those giant chess pieces? Oh, and Charms was also important too, we went over Cheering Charms and Flitwick said we were go-,"

"Hermione..."

"What? Oh, sorry Harry, I got a bit carried away I suppose…so, how are you feeling?" Hermione loomed over him, somewhat reminding him of Mrs. Weasley,

"I've felt worse," Harry replied with a smile.

"Well, you seem better," Hermione smiled. "It's funny how that always happens whenever you end up being close to Wood,"

Harry felt not only his cheeks, but his entire face flush hotly. Hermione just broadened her (according to Harry, intensely fake) innocent grin, she could tell Harry wasn't going to approach the subject anytime soon.

"Well, if you need someone to talk to about-,"

Before Hermione was about to finish her sentence, Madame Pomfrey's loud outburst came, cutting her short. A bowl fell to the floor from Madame Pomfrey's hands. Both Harry and Hermione turned to see her cornering Ron.

"WHY on earth did you give these…things…to him!" Ron gave a frightened look, attempting to move away from the towering, Madam Pomfrey who looked as though she was about to erupt when she pointed at Terry Boot. "Look at him!"

Harry looked at Terry, who was shaking violently, on his bed. It looked as though he was holding an electric drill – jerking madly. Hermione covered her mouth with her hand.



It wasn't long before Madam Pomfrey ushered Hermione, and yelled at Ron to leave, so she could give a cure for poor Terry, who was now having spasms. Madam Pomfrey went into her office, muttering about disturbing patients.

Harry found out what had happened to Terry when he looked at his Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans packet when he had grown bored of looking at Terry twitching – which was a very long length of time. Near a large rip, read "Now with Mental Pills Flavour," in big bold black, how Ron failed to notice, he would never know.

Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office a few minutes later, still muttering and holding a bottle of green Medicine which she promptly forced into Terry's shaking lips. Harry was about to laugh at the sight until Madame Pomfrey told him that he needed to take his dose of Ease-Fix in an hour.

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I'll be happy with 5 reviews before I post next Chapter, but thanks for reviewing and reading. You can read my other fic, just type in author in search. It's called: "A Friend in Need,"


	6. Chapter 6: Bloodied & Mangled

Disclaimer: Read Chapter One's Disclaimer. Same thing applies.

Author Note: IMPORTANT! Please read the Author Notes at the end of this Chapter, as I refuse to post more Chapters unless they are read. This concerns a preview of another Oliver story I'm starting.

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"Suggestions"

Chapter 6: Bloodied & Mangled

How could he have been so stupid to forget that practice was on when Angelina Johnson had reminded him a total of eight times that morning?

"Alright Angelina!" He had bellowed when Angelina, who became so fidgety, had asked Professor Flitwick during his Charms Lesson to see him so she could remind him for the seventh time that morning.

"Mr. Potter please!" Fliwtick had squeaked, poking his head into the corridor. "I have no clue as to why you have begun shouting lately Mr. Potter, but everyone in the class can hear you, and I'm sure you'd like to keep your conversations private - now, you lot, who can tell me what the Fidelius Charm is? Yes Miss Granger..."

"No need to get grouchy," Angelina said quickly when she saw the scowl on Harry's face as Flitwick shut the dorr behind him. "Wood just told me that this is an _essential_ practice session and you know what's going to happen if you turn up late or don't turn up at all right?" She shivered. "I remember what happened to our last Seeker we had - I don't want to see that again...he still has the scars _and_ he was a year older than Wood,"

Running, Harry went past several students, who turned to look at him, some pointing. An amused Lee Jordan, who was making his way to the Great Hall was shouting when Harry jogged through the Transfiguration Corridor, that Wood was going to leave his corpse mangled on the one of the Quidditch Hoops for missing out. Harry gritted his teeth when his mind wandered over the thought of Oliver, and what he would do to him, and the anger the Keeper would emit when his Seeker hadn't bothered to show. Resigning to believing that The Keeper would beat him senseless with one of the Beater's bat or with his broom, Harry felt himself gasping for breath as his feet finally touched the grass of the Quidditch Pitch.

Panting, with a look of desperation, he looked towards the Quidditch Hoop, hoping to see at least Katie or Angelina scoring a few goals, or Fred and George giving the Bludgers a good whack. He was sure the feeling in his chest translated to a longing to see Oliver blocking the Quaffle, or shouting at the others. However, he couldn't see a single figure at all, and felt his stomach give a lurch of what seemed like slight disappointment.

Was he wrong? He was sure Angelina had told him practice had been on. Was she wrong all eight times? Looking at the skies, then at the stands and finding no trace of a single scarlet robe, Harry was about to end his search, when he heard mutterings a short distance from him, in the direction of the changing rooms. There, he walked and saw Fred limping, leaning on George, looking as though his legs had been hit at the same time from both Bludgers, the pair heading for the male changing rooms, with Fred groaning. Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet trailed behind them, both holding their brooms, slouched, looking tired to the point that the pair weren't talking with each other and sharing the usual gossip, and continued to saunter in silence, following Angelina, who was walking in the same manner as the two before her, fatigued, into the girl's changing room.

Harry couldn't help the guilt ridden relief he felt, finding that he'd missed out on one of the more 'exhausting' practices, which he knew Oliver would find as being one the better ones. He sought the Keeper, half hoping to see him, half hoping to apologise, but couldn't find him amongst the others. He felt another pang of disappointment in his stomach. Either he was in the showers or he had gone. Harry hoped for the former, this was helped due to his keen observations of the Keeper after practice sessions, and knew Wood was usually last to leave the Pitch.

Giving out a sigh, Harry lowered himself onto the grass. He was going to wait and apologise. His thoughts wandered to theories on how Fred had obtained his injuries when he heard the sound of feet behind him. He turned to see Oliver, holding his broom, and striding across the grass, evidently from the Pitch.

He raised himself, but it was Oliver who had both noticed and spoke to him first. "Potter! Where have you been? You've just missed out on one of the most important practices!"

"Yeah, er… well I sorta forgot," Harry replied, with a sheepish grin.

"Forgot?! What do you mean you forgot?!" Wood cried in frustration. "Didn't Angelina tell you that it was on?"

"Yeah she did…" Harry replied, feeling extremely awkward.

"So, how did you forget?!" Wood continued in disbelief, lowering his eyebrows. "How do you expect us to even win a game when the Seeker isn't there with his team?"

"Well…I was kinda…distracted," Harry gave a small, sheepish laugh, which Oliver did not return. Clearing his throat, he muttered in a more serious voice. "Yeah, I know, I've been…really stupid. I forgot. I'm sorry,"

Daring to look at the Keeper, he expected Lee Jordan's prediction that Oliver would leave his mangled corpse on one of the Quidditch Hoops to come true, but was surprised to find the Keeper no longer had signs of his frustration.

"It's okay, Harry," Oliver sighed, "Professor McGonagall told me you were going through a rough patch. There's something I've gotta talk to you about, I'll just go and get changed,"

Wood flashed him a smile, then headed for the changing room. Harry felt a certain weight being lifted from him, and both relief and disbelief at Wood's response, expecting to at least get a longer shouting, as he watched the Keeper enter the changing room, now gone from his sight. What he couldn't help wonder was what it was that Oliver wanted to talk with him about. What else had McGonagall been telling him? Staring back at the Pitch, Harry glared up, wishing that he had been there during practice, so he'd get to be on his broom again, so he could at least feel what the Snitch was like again, as well as the added bonus of seeing Oliver.

"There's the lucky Seeker!"

Harry turned to see a gleeful Fred and George, both changed into their robes. He was surprised to see that Fred's battered leg and his limp were no longer present. George patted him against the arm.

"We see you're still alive, talked with Wood yet?"

"Yeah, he just told me I'd missed out on 'one of the most important practices' and that we would lose if I didn't show up again…sorry about that guys,"

"Was that all?" Asked a befuddled Fred, raising an eyebrow and looking at George, who returned the same expression.

"Harry, we got hit on the head three time from the Quaffle because we showed up twelve minutes late, as well as Wood hollering at us," George replied. "We all know he gives special privileges to you because he's got a soft spot for you, but this is just beyond unfair,"

"Right George, we'll only be abused if everyone else does," Fred nodded.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, feeling his chest heaving when George said that Wood had a soft spot for him.

"Well, I mean come on Harry, you're the youngest player on our team, and you're the one that wins us all our games, you're the best Seeker in the school. Not to mention you beat You Know Who. But does Wood let us off when we miss out on practice? No, we get whacked on the broom repeatedly, have Quaffles thrown at us and Wood not talking with us for a month…mind you, not that that's a bad thing I don't get a buzzing in my ear after each practice session," George replied.

"Completely unfair," Fred agreed, shaking his head.

"What are you two doing?" Came a stern voice behind them.

Fred and George both turned, and Harry peered over their shoulders. Oliver had changed into his robes, though that didn't deter from the fact that he still looked like the fanatical Keeper with his expression, leering at a startled Fred and George.

"Fred, shouldn't you be at the Hospital Wing, if your leg had gotten better? You should have said something, instead of sitting in the stands for half the practice,"

"Er…I was just about to take him Wood, when we bumped into young Harry here," George replied, sounding thoroughly unsure.

The pair hurried off in the direction of the Great Hall and the Hospital Wing, Fred gave Harry a wink, which made him wonder whether Fred had jinxed both Bludgers to hit him. He continued, pretending to limp across the grass, leaning on George giving rather loud, yet fake sounding cries of pain whilst Fred looked over his shoulder to see whether Oliver was still looking in their direction.

Harry heard Oliver sigh, then mutter beside him. "Those two…anyways, thanks for waiting Harry,"

Harry had thought Oliver looked as handsome with his school robes instead of his Quidditch Robes and still dared not to look at the Keeper as the rare soft voice suggested they head to the Great hall together.

"Well we've missed some of dinner, but we can still get there in time to get something to eat," Wood said, relaxed, which gave Harry some sort of reprieve to see that the Keeper's frustration had somewhat evaporated. "McGonagall told me that you're regularly…troubled and keep getting distracted in her class, and she thinks it might be because of Quidditch,"

"It isn't because of that," Harry replied, glaring at his feet as he continued his sluggish walk with Oliver.

"Are you sure Harry?" Wood continued with what seemed to Harry like a hint of concern. "You were at the Quidditch Pitch at one in the morning just a few days ago,"

"Yeah, but that was because I couldn't sleep…" Harry replied, still staring straight ahead as the pair passed Hagrid's Hut. Hagrid wouldn't be inside, he thought - he'd be at the Great Hall for the feast, as his hut lacked signs that the familiar warmth when fireplace was in use. Fang's low growling was also missing.

"And you're going to tell me that's not caused by Quidditch either?" Wood continued.

"No, it doesn't. I just couldn't get to sleep, that's all," Harry lied, feeling both irritated and guilty at the same time. He didn't want to look at Oliver.

"Look, Harry," Wood started with a sigh. "I know I can be a bit too hard on you guys sometimes, and I'm pretty sure that I'm the reason for you being like this, it's my fault,"

"It's got nothing to do with you Oliver, or Quidditch, so don't think it is," Harry knew what he said wasn't true at all. It had everything to do with Oliver. He couldn't deny that. But telling the one person who mattered so much to him and having to risk losing him was something Harry didn't want to do, even though the pounding in his chest was starting to come numb.

"Harry, please, I know it is, you were calling my name out in your sleep for God's sake," The Keeper looked at him.

"That doesn't mean anything," Harry retorted, feeling his face grow hot. No. Wood couldn't know.

"It does mean something, you don't have to say it doesn't, I won't replace you with another Seeker just because you tell me," Oliver continued, still making Harry's stomach lurch with his eyes still set on the Seeker.

"It isn't about Quidditch!" Harry responded hotly.

"So what is it about then?"

"It's nothing…" Harry muttered, "Look… just forget about it,"

"Harry, it might not seem like it to you, but I actually do care about the health of players in my team,"

"You don't understand," Harry heard himself mutter hoarsely.

"What I don't understand is why you aren't going to tell me why you're distracted all the time, and keep looking at the Quidditch Pitch. It _is_ because of me Harry, isn't it?"

" No, it's not -,"

"So why were you muttering my name over and over again in your sleep Harry?" Wood interjected, glaring at Harry, he wanted an answer.

"Because…" Harry dared to look at the Keeper, causing the familiar pounding in his chest, though now it was much faster. He had caught Oliver's eyes for the first time since their conversation, and he could see that the Keeper was searching his green ones for some sort of response. He looked somewhere besides Oliver, but still, the pounding continued. How stupid he'd been, looking at the Keeper. He could never tell him lies whenever those beautiful brown eyes were set on his. He sensed the Keeper, still looking at him, then felt his own mouth open. "Because..."

But Harry never got to finish. The next moment, the rain came pelting, cutting Harry off and forcing both boys to hurry towards the Entrance Hall. Harry felt a strange hotness in his cheeks even though the icy cold rain was soaking his face and clothes. When they came into the warmth and shelter of the Entrance Hall, Harry and Oliver both brushed the rain of their clothes in silence, then - "Well Harry, since we're here, we can get something to eat befor ethe plates clear. Listen - if you want to talk, just ask me anytime okay?"

Wood took his hand off Harry's shoulder, flashed him a smile then hurried into the Great Hall. Harry just stood there - his whole body felt numb and it wasn't from the cold. He was about to follow Oliver into the Great Hall, but a sudden voice haltered him.

"Hey! You're still alive!" Harry turned to see Lee Jordan, accompanied by the fatigued Angelina Jordan - both were heading up the staircase. Angelina gave Lee a weak scowl, the turned back to Harry.

"Hey Harry, why weren't you at practice today? Have you talked to Wood yet?"

"Yeah...but he didn't punish me or anything,"

"Really?!"

"Come on Angelina," Lee said briskly. " You know Wood's gone all soft since that girl's back in his life,"

"You mean...Savanah? Well, he's got a funny way of showing he's gone soft," Gumbled Angelina as she rubbed her bruised kneecap.

"Yeah well, let's get that essay done. Did I just say that? See what happens when Flitwick puts me in a group with you and Kellor? Now the prat's rubbed off on me!" Lee fumed a sthey both waved Harry goodbye and hurried off.

Harry watched them in silence. All of a sudden he felt a sickness in the stomach, which had nothing to do with hunger. How could he have been so stupid...He stood there - alone in the Entrance Hall, wet, dripping on the floor with nothing but the strange sudden hurt feeling he felt inside.

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Well, that's Chapter 6 done. I liked this Chapter a lot. Reviewing won't kill you, so review if you want. Also, although I do think Oliver/Harry is great, However, Oliver/(Read Below) is probably the best when you consider it. ANYWAYS, THIS IS IMPORTANT. I'm sorry, but I refuse to post anymore Chapter unless people read the preview below and review it. It's important that I know whether to continue or not. Sorry. (Mind you, if you can't be bothered to read all of it fine, just read whatever you can)

Here's a preview of "Fallen Angel" - Chapter One: "Oliver's Hope".

It's going to be a sequel to a "Friend in Need", but you don't have to read that to understand "Fallen Angel" (And I haven't neared finished "A Friend in Need anyway..."). Anyway, please read this and review it! I really need comments to see whether I should continue this one!

Note: Some of this Chapter contains reminiscent moments Oliver had with Frey, I had to include these even though they might be a bit unfamilar, but you don't need to read when they happened first time around, to know the pain Oliver's feeling.

Also, Icarus is mentioned once - he is a warrior wannbe comic relief character from "A Friend in Need,"

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BACKSTORY (Read this first): Dumbledore thinks that all Oliver cares about is winning and Quidditch, and since he doesn't want someone to become like him (ie. so devoted to magic he lost his sister and Grindelwald) Oliver wakes up the next morning in a strange forest and eventually saves villagers from bandits using magic. Amongst the villagers is Frey, a man a year younger than Oliver, who longs to do so much more than live the menial village lifestyle. Oliver realises he is in Ancient Greece, and the pair set off to bring Oliver home, by travelling to Britannia (Britain) and hopefully visit Hogsmeade to find a way back. They have a lot of adventures on the way, grow closer, make enemies (You can read all about this in "A Friend in Need,") and eventually meet an evil man related to Salazar Slytherin by the name of Hope. Hope is pure evil and knows magic, making him and Oliver the only ones who do - he also knows Dark Magic and telekinesis. Hope hates and kills everyone except Frey, whom he seems to have a strange soft spot for. Eventually, Hope wants to destroy Hogsmeade and Oliver and Frey try and stop him. They realise that Oliver can get back home if they kill Hope. Eventually Hope is cornered, and is about to fall into a crack where lava is flowing. Oliver is going to cast "Avada Kedavra" to kill Hope, but Hope uses his telekinises to raise swords to impale Oliver. Not wanting Oliver to die, Frey sacrifices himself by grabbing onto Hope and pushing himself and Hope into the lava. With Hope dead, Oliver wakes back at Hogwarts...

PREVIEW

"Fallen Angel,"

Chapter One: "Oliver's Hope,"

Although it had been a week since he had come back to Hogwarts, what he had seen – what he had _felt_, just over a week ago continued playing over and over in his head. A week ago, he was in somewhere where Dumbledore thought would teach him that Quidditch and winning wasn't everything. A week ago, he last saw the one person that meant so much to him for the last time – the laugh, the glistening black hair, the brilliant brown eyes, the stories he would tell – the time when Frey was sick with poison, his face sullen, pale and sweaty, muttering gently in his hallucination. _"You've got to take me with you... You can't leave me here in Amphipolis... I wanna go with you... I've studied the stars... spoken with Philosophers...and I have the gift of prophecy... I can be very valuable to you... Take me with you... Don't leave me"_

No, he needed to concentrate. He should stop thinking about these things. The thoughts came again – that moment, the moment when he raised his wand – targeting it at Hope's heart, a menacing scowl on his face. He remembered the fury he had felt – Hope was pure evil – Hope was what he needed to kill to get back to Hogwarts – back his world. Frey and Icarus were watching him from a few meteres away. He had gotten the chance to kill Hope – to end the evil. He was about to shout _"Avada Kedavra!"_ - to watch the one thing he hated die in a flash of brilliant green light when he saw the menacing glint in Hope's eye. The swords on the ground were rising – Hope was forcing them to move – Then... _"No! Hope!"_ shouted a voice behind him. He had heard movement behind him, someone rushing towards them. He hesitated. His eyes caught a glimpse of who it was - Frey. Hope had turned to look as well - the hovering swords fell to the floor with a clatter. Frey hugged Hope closely, swerved both of them around, gave Oliver one last look, took a single step back and fell into the burning crack in the ground - taking Hope with him. "NO!!" Oliver remembered screaming at the top of his lungs, rushing to the crack to see both figures falling...with only the hot surging magma below to catch them. Why did he do it? Why?

"Watch out!"

Oliver blinked. A round, large Quaffle flew past his ear. He looked around and saw all six Gryffindor players, mounted on their broom, staring at him.

"Wood you've let every ball in!" Alicia Spinnet shouted.

"And you haven't shouted at us once..." Fred said with suspicion.

"Are you feeling alright?" George asked, narrowing his eyebrows.

"I'm fine," He heard himself mutter weakly. "I...I'm tired, you guys keep practicing without me...I'm going to get changed,"

Fred and George watched him in disbelief as he landed on the ground and walked to the changing room. "Something's wrong," Fred muttered to his twin.

--

Why? Wood wondered as the warm, water pounded his head. Why did he... there had to be some other way...why did he have to go...leave him... the Keeper's mind went back to thoughts of the smiling black haired boy as the water continued to beat against him.

--

"That was beautiful...who trained you?"

"Trained me? Oh...no one...mmm...not in the classical sense. I just... I like stories."

"And you're going to the competition?"

"What competition?"

"The bard competition... for the Athens City Academy of the Performing Bards. The winners win a place. You're very good, you'll win for sure. I'm entering too"

" Come on son. Don't give him false hopes...your story was...cute,"

"Cute?" Frey had asked with a raised eyebrow, watching the man walk away.

--

"I've always wanted to study at the Academy. And I might finally have my chance."

"Are you sure it's not just to show up this guy's father?" Oliver replied.

"Well - OK - so he irks me a bit. But - this is the Academy. Am I supposed to pass up my shot at a dream come true?"

"Nope - no one should pass up their dreams. How long would you be gone?"

"Oh - maybe four or five years, or - maybe a little less, if I...if I study really hard. You'd hardly notice I was missing."

"Even if I was playing Quidditch, with everyone in the stands, I'd still notice you were missing," Oliver had whispered softly so that Frey wouldn't hear. "You want some company?"

"Well - you've got to get to back to Hogwarts... Maybe I shouldn't go, you can't get there alone... and...in case I don't get in -"

"Oh, you'll get in, Frey. You're a good storyteller. Look, I'm not going to get in between you and your dreams. I can find my own way back,"

--

He remembered it well, he hadn't wanted Frey to leave him, but how could he deny him his dreams? Now, Frey was never going to live his dream – it was all because of him... Frey was gone...

--

"Hi,"

"Frey? What are you doing back here? I thought you were at Athens comepteing in that contest?"

"I was,"

"So who won?"

"I did,"

"But that means...you should be at the Academy, learning to be a bard... why are you – _what_ are you smiling at?"

"This might sound stupid... but I realized that whilst they're telling adventures. We're living them. And besides, I doubt you could get all the way back to Hogsmeade in Britannia alone,"

--

A small faint, sad smile came on Wood's face as he thought about him. The water still drumming in his ear. He felt a strange hotness welling in his eyes that didn't have anything to do with the shower. The first time they'd met...

--

"You've got to take me with you. You can't leave me here,"

"Why?"

"Have you seen the girl they want me to marry?"

"She seems...gentle," Oliver had replied.

"It's not the gentle part I have a problem with – it's the dull, stupid part. Oliver, I'm not cut out for this village life. I was born to do so much more,"

--

The Keeper pressed his head against the wall as the water continued to pound against him. What had Frey said to him, once, when he felt like this? When he thought he was going to lose him?

_--_

Coughs "My chest feels so he - heavy... what is it?"

"You're coughing up blood. The arrow must've grazed your lung. The poison – come on we're turning around. I'm taking you back..."

"What? Oliver - you can't do this. We can't go back - not if Hope's still heading for Hogsmeade, we won't get there in time - what's going to happen to that village when he gets there? People are going to die! You're the only one-"

"No, quiet Frey,"

"Look, I know what you're doing. You can't. If you don't stop him Hogsmeade will be gone, and how are you going to get home? Besides it's only a day away -"

"Frey, you might die in less than a day! We can still turn back and get you treated,"

"And then what? What happens to Hogsmeade? What's my life worth then? What's everything that we did worth then?"

"I will not let you die!"

"Oliver, there are things worth dying for - things that mean more than our existence,"

"Not yours"

"Why? Because I'm your friend?"

"Yes!"

"No. There's no other way...you have to keep going. It's too late for me."

"No it's not! We're going back -"

"Don't."

"Don't argue with me now."

"Don't you argue with me! I know that I'm going to die - I accept that! ... Why can't you? A long time ago, I accepted the consequences - of leaving home and travelling with you - that one day it might come to this. It has. I'm not scared. All I'm doing is slowing you down. Don't turn around...I can wait until we reach the city that's a day away... just promise me that if I die...just let me go... go on without me..."

--

Oliver turned off the tap. The water stopped. "I can't let you go Frey," He whispered, his head still against the wall. "I...I'm so sorry..."

If it could happen again - he would be happy to die - shouting _"Avada Kavada,"_ watching Hope die, then feel the swords impaling his own body. Then at least Frey would still be alive. No. He would never want that - he wouldn't want him - Oliver, to die - he didn't want him - Oliver to become a cold blooded killer by killing Hope with the killing curse. Without another sound, Wood exited the shower.

--

_"No! Hope!"_

Wood jabbed at the mass of sausage blindly. He was now in the Great Hall, trying desperately to eat - to listen to the conversations surrounding him, to watch Fred and George testing their Long - Neck Lemon Drops whilst Lee Jordan cackled with laughter - even to listen to Percy, anything to stop his mind wondering over the thought - the look Frey gave him before he - Wood jabbed his fork hard on the plate - so hard that people close to him turned their heads. Why did he have to do it? No. He had to stop thinking these thoughts. He was back at Hogwarts. He was Quidditch Captain. He heard Dumbledore clear his throat politely over the conversations. The plates of food before them vanished and Dumbledore rose from his chair. Conversations died down and silence fell over the Great Hall. Wood still wasn't looking at the teacher's desk, at Dumbledore, lke everyone else was. Though he heard the Headmaster's voice, his mind was still elsewhere.

"I am pleased that we have eaten to our heart's content," Wood heard the Headmaster faintly, even though he was sitting only a short distance away from the standing Dumbledore. "...Mr. Filch would like to remind that the ever so popular Filibuster Fireworks is banned - for to his dismay, he found that the second floor bathroom was flooded last Tuesday due some of these fireworks," Wood heard Fred and George faintly stifle a laugh. "However, something that has recently arrested my attention is that we have a new student..." Wood's eyes remained focused on the Gryffindor table whilst everyone else craned their necks to see the student in black robes now standing patiently besides Dumbldore. "Recently, he has been transferred from Portidea..." Small, silent mutterings started amongst the students.

"Portidea? Only _specially selected_ students go there..."

"I hear that they learn to talk to Dragons,"

"Don't be stupid Ron," Hermione Granger's voice came. Several people turned to listen to her matter-of-fact explanation. "Every year, they only select twelve students and they learn all sorts of magic - especially old lore magic - you know, Professor Binns mentioned it - magic that Circe and Ptolemy learned...it's very advanced magic, it's also mentioned in _Hogwarts: A History_,"

"Wonder what he's doing here then," Seamus Finnegan said curiously.

Dumbledore beamed at the chatter. "I hope that you can all make him feel welcomed. Since the Sorting Hat is ...unable to sort at the moment... Professor Flitwick (Here Flitwick wrung his hands in excitement), I believe you are familar with young Fredrick here, so I suggest he stay with the Ravenclaws temporarily until we can organise a sorting next month. I do hope you find Hogwarts homely Fredrick, how is Headmaster Penelo by the way? Is he still a barmy old codger like me? That's good to hear, now...I'm sure you can sit there beside Miss Penelope. Let's hope that Hogwarts is as homely as Portidea,"

Applause erupted, mostly from the Ravenclaw table as the boy went to sit at the table. People resumed their curious gossipings and Wood raised his head slowly to see what the new student looked like. Percy Weasley has gotten up from the Gryffindor table to shake hands with the boy. Oliver could see him closer than ever. "Percy Weasley, Gryffindor Prefect, I'm sure you..." Percy's voice faded as Oliver looked at the boy. Glistening black hair, brilliant brown eyes, a gentle friendly smile - Frey's smile. He felt his whole body stop moving - his heart stop beating. He had to be...he _was_...the boy was Frey.


	7. Chapter 7: Intermission

Sorry to everyone but this story will be on hiatus! I will continue it some time later when I'm less preoccupied. I will continue with my other story - "Something Greater Than Quidditch," however. And as you guessed it's an Oliver fic and is one of the few that will show you the raw emotions that we never got to see Oliver have. Check it out. (Btw. Thanks to YinYangTiger)


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